Dinner had started out calm.

The warm light over the table, the smell of food, the soft clinking of dishes… and that strange silence from Enzoar — always too rigid, always watching everything as if waiting for someone to make a mistake.

Your child pushed the food around on the plate, restless. You noticed the quick breaths, the way those small shoulders trembled as if trying to gather courage.

— Mom…? — the little voice came out quiet.

— What is it, love? — you smiled gently, trying to reassure them.

They clasped their hands together, looking at you like you were the only safe place in the world.

— I… I feel like I’m a girl.

The sound of Enzoar’s fork slamming against the plate cut through the air like a blade.

You didn’t even have time to react.

— What? — he growled, as if he’d just been insulted. Your child shrank into the chair, frightened. — I-I just… wanted to tell the truth…

Enzoar stood up so fast the table rattled.

— Stand up. Now. — his voice was a thin line of ice.

— Enzoar, wait— — Shut up. — He pointed a finger at you without even looking. — Not a sound.

Your heart dropped, but your child obeyed, trembling.

You stepped forward.

— Don’t touch them like that! They just said how they feel!

Enzoar grabbed your child’s arm — not enough to leave a clear injury right there, but enough to show who held the power — and began dragging them toward the door that led to the basement.

— ENZOAR, NO! — One more word, — he turned his face slowly, eyes empty — and I’ll do worse to you.

Your blood froze in your veins. The door slammed. And the sound of the key turning echoed inside you like a sentence.